Aryan slowly regained consciousness. For a fleeting second, he thought he might've woken up in heaven. But the familiar ceiling above him quickly shattered that illusion. He was back in the hospital.
Again.
His body felt heavy, but not as much as his heart. With no will left to fight or question, he lay still, staring blankly at the window as the world outside carried on.
Eventually, he sat up, slowly removed the IV drip from his arm, and stepped out of the room. Drawn by a numb instinct, he made his way to the rooftop.
It was night. The cool breeze whispered across his skin, brushing gently against his cheeks like a quiet lullaby. It offered the only comfort he had left.
Footsteps echoed behind him. A moment later, Evan appeared, panting, clearly out of breath from running.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, catching his breath, voice laced with concern.
